


(2p France X Reader) His Exception

by LaDeeDaLa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2P France (Hetalia), 2P Hetalia, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 14:48:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20083993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaDeeDaLa/pseuds/LaDeeDaLa
Summary: Another oneshot





	(2p France X Reader) His Exception

Francois Bonnefoy was a selfish bastard. He did as he pleased, took what he wanted, never gave a second thought about what would happen to other people as a consequence, and certainly never helped anyone unless it benefited him in some way. 

Francois Bonnefoy hated physical contact, unless it was during sex. There was no cuddling, no hand holding, no friendly hugs. Hell, he'd even avoid shaking hands if he could. 

Francois Bonnefoy was lazy. He didn't cook his own meals, or clean his home; he hired people for such... menial labor. He gave up on a task as soon as it became challenging and was more than comfortable with calling the most half assed work "good enough". 

Francois Bonnefoy was brutally honest. He had no filter. He said whatever he was thinking; no matter how rude, degrading, hurtful, unnecessary, completely lewd, or otherwise inappropriate. 

Fromcois Bonnefoy was damn near emotionless. His voice was 97% monotone, 2% sarcasm, 1% annoyance. He showed no passion, no enthusiasm, no rage, no strong feelings whatsoever. This was even portrayed in in his dull lilac eyes and constant bored expression. 

Francois Bonnefoy did not get attached. Ever. Attachment was a weakness; weakness would be exploited. Besides, everyone around gim would eventually die- be it from age or tragedy. So why bother? Humans were so unbelievably fragile and their lives so fleeting. It was pointless. Stupid. Useless. 

Francois Bonnefoy was content. 

And then YOU happened. 

You, _____, who blew into his life with the warmth and gentleness of a summer breeze and flipped his world around like a hurricane. You made him forget every time tested truth he knew about himself. 

He knew that you hated the smell of cigarettes so he adamantly refused to smoke when you were near in spite of the burning want- no, NEED for just a breath of smoke to soothe the storm of the nicotine addiction constantly lurking on the edge of his mind. His addiction to you was far stronger. 

He loved the way that your hand, so warm and soft, felt intertwined with his and held it at every oppurtunity. 

Whe you were sick, he stayed with you and personally took care of you night and day. Making your favorite soup (from scratch nonetheless), going from store to store to find that one perfect brand of cough drop that you thought tasted nice and worked well, rubbing away the aches and pains in your back, and yes, cleaning up your vomit- occasionally off of himself. 

While he may not have showered you in compliments and words of devotion; he felt as though over using such words word cheapen them, he had never uttered a single harsh word towards you. Not even in the rare disagreement or lover's quarrel. 

A single look from you could draw a small but still rare smile from him. You could even get him to laugh on occasion. A real, genuine, happy, laugh. Something unheard of for him. 

Francois Bonnefoy loved you. He loved you more than words could ever say.

It was quite odd, he realized one night as you lay beside him in a peaceful slumber, how much he had changed for you; no- how much you had changed him, especially in such a short time considering how long he'd been alive. What was even more strange was the fact that he didn't mind. He still felt like himself, just... happier.

As he laid there pondering these thoughts, you cuddled a little closer to your lover/ heat source, pulling the blankets tighter around you both. The second player gave a ghost of a smile and silently pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead as you slept. It was moments like this; the peaceful, fleeting moments that other might find dull, that he loved the most. He wished this never had to end. You were a human though, and no amount of wishing would change that. Someday; hopefully not for a few more decades, he would lose you. 

He briefly wondered if, after you were gone, he would revert back to his old self. A moment later he snickered, looking down at you at you dreamt happily in his arms. He already knew the answer to that question. Truthfully, he hadn't changed, not really. To the rest of the world he was the same old Francois he'd always been, albeit in a better mood. You were the only one he acted any differently for. You were the only one who could draw such kindness from him. You were the only one he loved.

You were his exception. His only exception.


End file.
